


Mess with the Bull, youse gets the horns

by Dontgotone



Series: Don't Got No Drabbles [4]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Robots in Disguise (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Blackmail, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, implied prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-08 06:16:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8833600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dontgotone/pseuds/Dontgotone
Summary: A quick gift for a friend over on Twitter.
Gangster AU - street con Steeljaw got himself in hot water with mob boss Thunderhoof





	

"Now, now, Brother, please, there's been a misunderstanding."

"The only misunderstandin' around here was trustin' youse to make your payments on time! Youse ain't gonna be hustlin' me no longer, Kid!" 

The smooth reply was cut short with a yelp, Steeljaw forced to scrambled along the wall, arms up to protect himself from any splinters as he dodged the chairs and portraits the bigger decepticon was tossing about the room. This was certainly proving to be a most unproductive day. Here he'd thought he'd get another low risk, high payout job from the gangster, a little bit of cajoling to push back the date for his loan. Maybe indulge in some sultry seduction, see if the big boss wanted to spend the day doing something more fun than looking over the reports from his stooges. 

Instead, it looked like someone had done their job a little too well reporting on the finances. He'd get through this, of course, his silver tongue always managed... but he had to survive first. His feet betrayed him when he tried to make a dash for the exit, getting tangled up in the gangster's stolen rug, one that Steeljaw had procured himself, even. If he were the kind of bot to believe in higher powers, he might even have entertained the idea that it was some karmic feedback for the teensy tiny extra markup he'd applied when offering it to Thunderhoof. 

Speaking of which... 

"Boss, come on , you know me! I wouldn't ever short you on a payment. I'm sure your clerks just got the amount wrong. Just give me a few hours to sort this out, and I'm sure we can come to an agreement."

He tried getting up, but stopped the moment the light above him was blocked out by the imposing form of the gangster's legs on either side of his head. The scowl he wore was the deepest Steeljaw had ever seen, which meant this wasn't just a normal bout of anger over a late payment. 

"See, ya mangy mutt, I've had someone doin' some diggin' around. And it looks like every time youse were late with a payment, the next day or so sumthin' of mine would disappear from one of my businesses. Or several sumthins. And eventually they'd get sold off and reappear in the streets for just about the amount youse owed me." 

Oh crud.

Steeljaw's eyes went wide when the blue hoof slammed down, both of his arms coming up to protect his oh so valuable face. The crushing pressure easily kept him pinned, Thunderhoof's weight and strength causing the metal on his arms and head to creak and groan uncomfortably. He could swear the plating was cracking, even. 

"P-please! Thunders, Brother, Boss, there's got to be a mistake, I swear I wouldn't steal from you, I'm sure we can settle this peacefully..." 

The creaking got louder as the gangster leaned forwawrd, putting more weight on Steeljaw's arms, and crushing his face underneath them against the floor that much more. The wolf was beginning to get more frantic, vision blurring from the pain. This was not ideal. Definitively, certainly not ideal. Thunderhoof didn't respond for a moment, and the pressure alleviated just a little, which was good news. It meant he was thinking about it. Of course he wouldn't permanently maim one of his top earners... right? 

The sizzling and click from above made the pit in Steeljaw's fuel pump feel even colder. The Boss' Cy-gars were important. Very expensive. Very rare. And he only took one out when it was time for the Big Deals. As if to accentuate that terrible feeling of dread, Steeljaw found himself crying out, the pressure back in a big way as the bigger bot went down on one knee. He was leaning on his other leg, putting even more weight on the hustler's face as he puffed the small poison stick. 

"Here's how it's gonna be, Mutt. Your premium's goin' up. Double. No, Triple. Yer gonna pay back every single credit you ripped off and then some before I let you off the hook."

The pressure only got worse again when Steeljaw protested, this definititely cracking his plating. "I get it! I get it, all right!"

Another slow puff before the pressure got a little better, and the gangster continued. 

"If youse can't make the payments, yer gonna work for me directly. Pretty bot like youse, I've got a few ideas how youse can make however many credits I wants, under my direct supervision."

"Now hold on just a minute! No one gets to control who I do and do not-" 

He had never realized just how fast the bigger bot could move until he felt the heat of the cy-gar's tip very nearly on his glossa, the fact that he froze in shock the only reason he hadn't been burned. 

"No youse listen. Youse either take this deal, or we move on to step two immediately. Capiche?" 

Steeljaw couln't quite nod, especially not with the heat of the little nub of metal still stuck in his mouth and oh so very close to burning him, but he could acquiesce, offering a weak whimper of approval. He'd just have to work his ass off, really. He knew a few easy marks he'd need to milk for all they were worth to make due, but he could do it. Probably. 

Finally, Thunderhoof got off of him, returning the cy-gar to his own mouth. But apparently that wasn't his cue to leave, since when Steeljaw got up he found himself tossed across the room, landing painfully against the heavy desk where the boss did most of his dealings. Without even talking, the big bot pinned his hustler to the metal surface using only a single hand on his back, apparently rummaging in his drawers for something. 

"Ah, there we go! Now that's good business."

"What are you even talking about-hrk!"

Something slapped the back of his neck, wrapping around it tightly and fastening itself in a collar that was usually reserved for criminals on probation, and then Thunderhoof used the ring clipped in the back to drag him back up to his feet. 

"A Mutt needs a collar, ain't that right?" the bigger bot growled around the stump of the cy-gar, flicking the tip of it so some of the metal ash would spatter all over Steeljaw's face, making the hustler cringe and cough. His sense of smell was particularly offended, even as Thunderhoof stepped aside, pointing at the exit. 

"And since youse said youse had the money, there won't be a problem getting me the first payment tonight. Get to it, before I detonate that collar." 

Steeljaw couldn't get out of the trashed office fast enough, though he wasn't quick enough to escape the stinging slap on his behind. Or to keep his sensitive ears from hearing the communicator get picked up, with the gangster's deep voice asking someone to bring up "that pretty little maid number" he liked, since it looked like he'd be "entertaining that night."


End file.
